most unheard-of conditions provided only that the inner man is not
neglected. The smell of breakfast would almost reconcile a man to
purgatory--anyhow it reconciled us for the time being to our unparalleled
situation, and we ate and drank, and indulged in as cheerful good
comradeship as that of a fishing party in the wilderness after a big
morning's catch.

When the breakfast was finished we began to chat and smoke, which
reminded me of those gulping mouths under the wainscot, and I leaned down
to catch a glimpse of their rows of black fangs, thinking to ask Edmund
for further explanation about them; but the sight gave me a shiver, and I
felt the hopelessness of trying to understand their function.

Then we took a turn at looking out of the window to see the earth. Edmund
furnished us with binoculars which enabled us to recognize many
geographical features of our planet. The western shore of the Pacific was
now in plain sight, and a few small spots, near the edge of the ocean, we
knew to be Japan and the Philippines. The snowy Himalayas showed as a
crinkling line, and a huge white smudge over the China Sea indicated
where a storm was raging and where good ships, no doubt, were battling
with the tossing waves.

After a time I noticed that Edmund was continually going from one window
to the other and looking out with an air of anxiety. He seemed to be
watching for something, and there was a look of mingled expectation and
apprehension in his eyes. He had a peephole at the forward end of the car
and another in the floor, and these he frequently visited. I now recalled
that even while we were at breakfast he had seemed uneasy and
occasionally left his seat to look out. At last I asked him: